


Dreams of blue

by Lilibet



Series: October 2020 prompts [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Flufftober 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Jinnobi Challenge 2020, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: “It’s okay, you’re okay,”For a moment, he’s back on Naboo, lying on his back with a hole burning through his chest and hearing his master say those same words, strangled and draped in anguish.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: October 2020 prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949062
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	Dreams of blue

**Author's Note:**

> For the Flufftober 2020 day 2 prompt "Comfort". I hope you enjoy!

“It’s okay, you’re okay,”

The words are muffled and he can barely make them out under the buzz in his ears. There’s no light when he opens his eyes and he frantically turns his head, blindly flinging out a hand in panic. For a moment, he’s back on Naboo, lying on his back with a hole burning through his chest and hearing his master say those same words, strangled and draped in anguish. The force howls and the smell of burnt skin invades his nostrils.

A low, steady rumble sounds in the room, a room he logically knows is his own, but the air feels too sharp, the bed too hard, the covers too constricting. He goes to open his eyes again, convinced he must have failed the first time because he can’t see, _he can’t see_ , but that same blackness stares steadily back at him, mocking.

He knows the rumbles are words, but he can’t parse them out, so he focuses on the cadence instead, the rhythm he knows almost as well as the back of his own hand, even if he can’t quite remember why in this moment.

Something catches his flailing hand; a palm with soft skin and scattered calluses. Fingers weave between his own and hold him gently, as if afraid of startling him. He grips it with all his strength, feeling the bones grind together under the skin. Still, the hand does not release him, and he uses it as an anchor point to try and lift himself out of the clutches of darkness he’s embroiled in.

A touch on his shoulder. He’s tries not to flinch away but it’s a hard-pressed thing. The hand tightens around his.

“Easy, Obi-Wan,” the voice says. The hand slips up to stroke through his hair, comforting. “You’re okay. I need you to try and slow your breathing, Obi-Wan, can you do that for me?”

His hand is placed against a warm, bare chest, and he can feel the heartbeat through the warm skin, the steady thump beating against his hand and the slow metronomic pattern of breath. _In, out_.

He struggles to match the pace, to slow the gasping breaths he didn’t even realise he was making. Until slowly, steadily, he manages it. The burning in his chest diminishes until it’s nothing but the ghost of a long-healed injury.

A thumb swipes over the back of his hand in time with his breathing, and when he opens his eyes this time, he’s greeted by the soft light of a bedside lamp and the illuminated silhouette of his beloved. So beautiful, he looks as if the sun itself had breathed him into life.

His blurred vision can’t make out every detail of Qui-Gon, but he sees the sleep mussed hair and the well-worn sleep pants. He looks down, finds himself in the same clothes, but his chest is covered in a sheen of rapidly cooling sweat and the sheets are twisted tightly around his hips.

A nightmare. A bad one, by the looks of it, slipping through his fingers like smoke when he tries to remember it.

A hand delicately brushes the sweat-drenched hair off his forehead. “How do you feel?”

He faces Qui-Gon and simply looks at him for a moment, before murmuring, “Better, for the sight of you,”

Even though his voice is croaky and he probably looks a sweaty mess, he still spies the blush that dusts over Qui-Gon’s cheeks when he twists to reach the water on the nightstand.

Qui-Gon helps him sit, presses the glass to his lips and he gulps down the crisp water, a cool balm for his parched throat, before it’s pulled away and returned to the nightstand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, “I can’t even remember it,”

Qui-Gon searches his face for a moment, as if expecting Obi-Wan to lie. Which isn’t an unfair thought, he’d often lie about his nightmares in the aftermath of Naboo, but this time he’s being truthful, and Qui-Gon’s eyes soften with fond warmth when he realises.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead and he watches as Qui-Gon disappears to the fresher and comes back with a damp cloth.

He says gently, “Lie back,” and runs the cloth over his face and chest, bit by bit wiping away the sweat and the remnants of his nightmare.

Obi-Wan follows him lazily with his eyes, gaze sweeping down his nose, along his jaw and down the tendon of his neck to his collarbones, before tracking across his broad shoulders. So strong in the face of so much. His heart thumps, feeling as if it’s grown three sizes too big for his chest with the sheer amount of love he holds for Qui-Gon.

He doesn’t protest the careful treatment, which he is sure surprises Qui-Gon, but he’s just so tired. His limbs feel like lead and his eyelids are starting to droop the longer he watches him.

When Qui-Gon finishes, he curls around him, head resting above his on the pillow. Bare feet slide under the sheets and tangle between his legs, one arm circling above him and the other coming to rest on his chest, palm open to cover the scarred tissue on his sternum. The blue of his eyes are like the surface of a lake, serene and calm but hiding a depth only revealed with years of patience.

He runs his lips over Obi-Wan’s forehead, who smiles and closes his eyes, and whispers, “Sleep, my heart. I will watch over your dreams,”

Obi-Wan sleeps, dreams of the colour blue and softness.

The warmth at his side never leaves.


End file.
